Unreal
by Winterfell's Vengeful Get
Summary: It was always known that Henry was a strange child. But Emma fears for him more than just because of that. ReginaxEmma pairing. The truth is stranger than any fairytale.


Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time isn't mine

Summary: It was always known that Henry was a strange child. But what no one understood was that there truly was something fractured in the boy's brain. ReginaxEmma pairing.

**Unreal: Sick: **

Emma had realized that it was an admission neither she, nor Regina could avoid. Their son was sick. It was something that she and Regina had always suspected. Always. It was hard though. It was a terrible realization. Often, they had used words like "special," and "different" to camouflage the reality. The reality that was oh so stark and clear; that Henry Mills Swan was mentally ill.

At first, Emma had convinced herself like Mary Margaret had and like his therapist; Archie had that Henry was just very imaginative and needed a world to escape to. It certainly seemed to be a plausible possibility. The boy was obviously unhappy with his life, and he had that book of fairytales. It all appeared understandable. Henry wanted another life. And what a better fantasy than imagining that you were the grandson of a King and Queen of a fairytale land and the son of the Savior of that land?

Henry was a very delusional boy. That was the truth. But who would ever want to guess such a thing? Who would ever want to guess that Henry was sick in the head? Wasn't it much more merciful to accept that Henry was just an unhappy boy and blamed his mother; Regina; making her out to be a kind of villain; believing she was the Evil Queen from the fairytale of Snow White?

Yes, it was the perfect reason to think that Henry was just imaginative, wasn't it? Henry hated Regina and so painted her as the "bad guy," and in his eyes, his biological mother; Emma was the savior, she was a near saintly figure for him. It was the perfect explanation for Henry's erratic nature. He was told that all the things he made up were in his imagination, and the first thing he did was run into a mine shaft and endanger himself and Archie. Regina proposed that Henry was imagining it all and the boy had retorted that her "evil plan" wouldn't work and that "good would win." The boy, as Emma, Regina, and the town had realized, was out of his young mind.

Henry was unwell. It was a fact that no one, especially not his mothers, wanted to accept. It was just too terrible a thing to simply say as if it was casual, as if it was the same as telling someone that they had just cooked dinner. It was still true. No one could tell anyone what was going through another person's mind. No one had any clue, prior to when Henry got his hands on the book of fairytales that he was mentally unhinged. No one had any idea before then. It was _after_ Henry got the book and his behavior changed so much that it became fairly obvious. The very first time that Henry's actions took a fairly dangerous turn, was when he had stolen Mary Margaret's credit card and spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars on a website to find Emma and what was more; track the blonde woman down in Boston, ignoring all danger to himself, to find her.

That wasn't even including Henry's insane way of proposing to his biological mother that she was to come home with him to Storybrooke. When Emma had explained what had happened to Regina, the dark haired woman had been aghast at Henry's nearly mad actions.

Stealing someone's credit card, using it on a website, ignoring the dangers of being a little boy in a huge city and tracking down someone all alone there, _and_ pressuring them into coming home with him-those weren't the actions of someone sane or stable.

As Henry's unhinged nature became more apparent, so did the grief of everyone in town over not being able to help the little boy that they all loved so much. Ruby, the woman that Henry claimed was "Red Riding Hood," had nearly burst into tears when another doctor had analyzed Henry and had put the pieces together. His behavior was unnatural for any normal person.

Ruby herself, not being entirely normal; wanting to move to a city and enjoying sleeping around, almost no one in town acted like she did. She was so far from the norm, she and Emma, that it was hard not to see them occasionally by the narrow-minded people of Storybrooke, as pariahs. But there was a big difference between them and Henry.

They were both sane, and Henry was not.

Finally, when Emma and Regina Mills; the Mayor of Storybrooke, and Henry's adoptive mother, started an affair, it pushed the poor, young boy over the edge.

Emma and Regina had met up at the Mayor's mansion and the Mayor had smiled, inviting her lover in. The two of them had sat down on the pearl white, leather couch together, facing one another. Regina had looked lovingly at Emma, reaching out and touching the palm of her hand against the other woman's face lightly. Emma's face had turned to Regina, without any further prompting, and they locked eyes. Regina had then leaned forward and kissed her lover's lips tenderly.

And that had been when Henry had walked in on his mothers. Neither Regina, nor Emma knew exactly how long the boy had stood there in the doorway of the living room, staring, mouth agape.

"Mom, no!" He had yelled, running over to the couch, nearly looking violent. Both women had sat up straight and stared at the young boy who was deeply involved in both their lives.

"Henry," Regina had said, stunned at her son's outburst, "What is wrong with you? What made you react with such rudeness?"

"Regina," Emma had mumbled, trying to calm her dark haired lover down, hoping that the other woman wouldn't be too harsh with their son.

"Emma," Henry's voice was harsh, looking desperate, "Why are you kissing her? You're supposed to be the good guy! Good doesn't let evil win!" Emma could see the boy's innocent, and as she looked even closer…nearly crazed eyes.

"Henry," Emma had taken that time to speak, knowing that Regina would be aggressive and unforgiving, "Your mom and I have found that we aren't that different. Regina….she's become very important to me."

"No," Henry whimpered out, his eyes pressing close, pain riddling his face, "Emma, you're supposed to be the savior. You can't let the evil queen do as she pleases." Emma took a worried glance at her lover and winced at the angered appearance forming over the dark haired woman. She had known that this would boil over if Henry should ever find out about their relationship, but she had been hoping that they could wait till later to let the boy know just what was happening between her and Regina. She was too afraid of the effect that such a discovery would have on Henry's impressionable mind. Now it seemed that the choice had been made _for _the two of them by either bad luck, or just their own stupidity of not locking the door to the living room so that Henry wouldn't come in and see them together.

Well, it didn't look like there was anything that could be done now. Regina unfortunately got out the first word out before Emma did, "Henry, this is ridiculous. Go to your room!" Regina glared, "I don't want to hear any of this fairytale and 'evil Queen' nonsense!"

"It's not nonsense!" Henry snapped, voice becoming vindictive, "Emma might not be able to see the evil woman you are, but you won't fool me. My life sucks because of you. And now you want everyone else under your power, just like you always have."

Emma stiffened when she heard that. She had always suspected that Henry's resentment towards his adoptive mother was the root of the boy's delusions that Regina was the 'evil queen,' and believing that she was responsible for the misery of everyone. He thought that she was the cause of everyone's pain; Mary Margaret and David not being together, Mr. Gold taking control of the town, the boy and girl that Henry were so sure were 'Hansel and Gretel' not being with their father till last minute, and most of all, Henry blamed Regina for all his woes. And that was where Emma was so sure that Henry had made this whole "fairytale" thing up as a defense mechanism.

"Henry," Emma had said in a gentle tone, "We're not discussing this. Regina and I have made our decision. And that is our business, not yours. At least now you'll get both your mothers together."

"But this is wrong!" Henry whimpered, "You and your mother and father are supposed to stop Regina together."

Emma closed her eyes, aggravated now, "Henry, Mary Margaret and David aren't my parents. They aren't Snow White and Prince Charming. I'm not the savior and Regina isn't the Evil Queen."

And then Henry had said something that neither Emma, nor Regina could forgive. He had accused Regina of casting a spell on Emma and turning her against him. It wasn't something that was too off from a child simply to say because the child was upset, but the erratic actions of Henry were too out of control to simply be the actions of a normal child.

Archie had put the pieces together. Henry never cared about other peoples' problems. Whenever the discussion of Mary Margaret and David came into the picture, the boy would immediately resort to his fairytale world, saying that Mary Margaret was Snow White and that she'd end up with David sooner or later. And whenever Emma tried to make it clear that Henry didn't have such a bad life, Henry would go on and on about Regina being the Evil Queen.

Henry's inability to feel sorry for Emma after finding out that she was in the foster system, his lack of empathy for other people, unless they revolved around his fairytale fantasies, these were all signs that Henry was very unwell and even insane.

Archie had given the diagnosis to Regina and Emma while Henry wasn't in the room. The evidence was irrefutable. It didn't help matters that Henry had even said to Emma when he first brought her to Storybrooke that he said in retort to Emma's words, _"kid, you've got problems," "Yeah and you're going to fix them." _

Henry's refusal to think about anything except for his delusions, when Emma told him about her time in foster care had set off warning bells in the blonde woman's mind. The boy had the words _"Borderline personality"_ all over him.

Borderline personality was very rare, but when someone was around someone else who had it, it was completely noticeable after a long time. Borderline personality was when someone kept bringing the conversation back to them. It didn't matter what was said, the person with Borderline Personality would always find a way to bring the subject back to their own person.

Knowing Henry's condition was not for the better. At least Regina and Emma didn't feel that way. Regina had buried her head into Emma's shoulder and had wept as the doctors had lead Henry down the hospital corridors for treatment. The last thing they had heard before the boy was in the doctor's room was, _"You won't get away with this, Regina! Evil won't win! You won't control all of us for much longer!"_

It hadn't been long after Regina had made that apple turnover for Emma that they had, which Henry looked at in horror and exclaimed that it was poisoned with the same sleeping spell used on Snow White. Henry had taken a bite of the apple turnover, desperate to prove Emma right, and of course, nothing happened. Henry was as perfectly well physically as he always had been.

After that, Henry had looked aghast and clearly just didn't know how to cope with his delusions not being true. Emma had pat her son on the shoulders gently. She told him that Regina wasn't evil and that she was just giving her the turnover as an act of affection, nothing more. Henry had sobbed and cried and refused the logical and real reason behind Regina's actions and had run off, tears streaming down his face.

It was at that point that Emma realized that maybe she and Regina had to sit down and have a talk about their son and take on the possibility that maybe, just maybe, their boy wasn't as mentally stable as they had hoped.

The boy was getting older, and it was starting to get worrisome for a young man his age to be imagining things like this. And slowly, it all came together. And that was when the boy's fantasies, _and _accusations became more wild, it was really clear then. Henry was insane.

Nothing was as awful as watching Henry being taken and the feeling of Regina sobbing in Emma's arms as the boy was kept hidden from them.

Now Emma lay in her and Regina's bed, cuddling together. The green eyed sheriff shut her eyes in pain. She hated this. No matter how much she adored and was in love with Regina, she sometimes wondered if it had been worth it to lose Henry like that. The boy was seeing multiple psychiatrists, but he was showing no sign of progress. He was diving further and further into his fantasy world. Emma and Regina's relationship had only seemed to convince Henry that Regina's plan was working and that the Evil Queen was now seducing and controlling the savior.

No matter how many times Emma held Regina in her arms, comforting the older woman, there would be no safe haven for them. They could never see Henry outside of the hospital again, but the understanding remained in their minds.

Henry Mills was sick. Had escaped into his world of fairytales for comfort, and he would likely never return from his fantasies.

Nothing, no sorrowful condolences from Mr. Gold, no tears from either Mary Margaret or Ruby, not even any happiness Emma and Regina had found together, would offer any solace at all for anyone in the town, especially not for the two mothers of the boy in question.

**Present day: Two years later: the Psych Ward:**

The dark haired, twelve-year-old boy stared lifelessly at the walls of his cell. He couldn't let Regina win, but he didn't know what else to do. No one else cared about him, because no one believed him. They all needed help. They said that he was sick, that he was insane. But they were the ones that were sick. They needed help and their memories back from wherever Regina had hid them.

Henry numbly fingered his hospital robes, the fabric caught between his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed his eyes shut. None of this made sense. The savior wasn't supposed to fall in love with the Evil Queen. Why was this happening?

There was the sound of the hospital door creaking open, and the young man turned to see Archie coming through. The ginger haired man's kind eyes shimmered with compassion behind his large, thick glasses. He gripped his black umbrella in his hands, and his voice was gentle with worry.

"Henry?" He asked, narrowing concerned eyes, "How are you feeling today? Did you sleep better last night?"

Henry inhaled, exhausted. Jiminy Cricket still didn't remember anything. Henry scrunched his eyes shut, trying desperately to figure out what it was he was missing that would awaken the townspeople's memories and make them the people that they once were.

At Henry's refusal to speak, Archie sighed, "Is there anything at all that I can do to help you, Henry?"

The boy opened his eyes and looked at his former therapist. He didn't hate Archie. He couldn't possibly ever do that. Archie had no idea who he even was.

"Archie," Henry said quietly, "You're the one that needs help. You're the one being kept in a prison, with all your memories taken away."

The psychiatrist sighed. He hated seeing Henry like this. The boy was so sick. They had done everything they could to help him. He kept staring at everyone emotionlessly, making the occasional remark that he recognized one nurse as the princess that kissed a frog; Tiana, or another one he claimed was Rapunzel.

And just the other day, Henry had stared sadly at Archie and asked him where Pinocchio was.

"_Dr. Hopper?" Henry asked, eyes never leaving the psychiatrist as he sat on his hospital bed. "Yes, Henry?" the redheaded bespectacled man asked, willing to hear any of the young man's opinions or really anything at all, hoping to needle some information indicating the source of the boy's madness-wanting to use it to his advantage and remold Henry's young, clearly damaged mind into a new, stable, fixed and renewed one._

_Henry spoke again, voice sounding naïve and sad, "Geppetto is here in Storybrooke, where is Pinocchio? You're meant to be the conscience of them both. Where is Pinocchio?"_

_The question came as a disappointment and nothing could prepare the psychiatrist for the pain that accompanied it. Henry had never shown any signs of improvement before. To possess that one moment of hope, believing that the boy might unconsciously give away some clue to his dementia, but now these were the same delusions as all the other sessions that he and Henry had together. _

"_Henry." Archie said sadly, eyes mournful as he beheld the mentally unbalanced boy. There were times when he truly regretted taking this job. He helped people, which brought him unfathomable joy, but there were times, like now when he'd come across a patient that was so completely broken and deranged that there wasn't even a single remaining shred of the person that once was, and only a shell would be what was standing in front of him, speaking; that was when Archie sometimes wished he had never taken this job thirty-one years ago. _

_Henry claimed that he didn't have his memories and he wouldn't be able to remember anything, but Archie knew that the boy was damaged mentally. He knew, because he had his memories. He was aware of when he first became a psychiatrist, when he first decided to become a psychiatrist and when he had chosen to leave his home in New York, disgusted with his mother's drinking and wasting her life away, wanting to do more in the world than she had done._

_Everyone had their memories here in Storybrooke, it was just that Henry had such a warped sense of reality, that his only way of escape was reflecting his fantasies of fairytale characters onto all the residents that lived here, and Emma. _

"_I don't know, Henry," Archie sighed; he suddenly felt like he needed to get out of this room or else he would die of suffocation and stress. He always felt this way whenever he believed he had failed a patient, "I suppose I'll just have to wait to find out, won't I? Now, I need to go and check on the other patients; I'm sure they're now wondering where I am."_

_The brown-haired young man nodded and resumed to pull out his large, mahogany colored storybook, placing it on his lap and flipping through the wide, broad and clearly very old pages, looking at his beloved fairytales. Archie held in a breath. There was a time here and there that he considered taking that book away from him, but had chosen against it, as he didn't want to possibly further Henry's psychological condition. For all he knew, ripping the book out of the boy's hands would only make him become desperate and dive down deep into his hallucinations where none of them could ever reach him again. _

_Archie nodded sorrowfully and left the room, locking it behind him, caging the boy in his world of never ending fantasies and nightmares._

Now, staring at one of his youngest patients in Storybrooke, Hopper knew that time was probably running out for Henry. It would get to the point where the young man was so fixated on his self-made world, that it would be the real world for him eventually, instead of the world he and Archie were standing in.

Archie dared a question, "Henry, would you like to see your mothers?" Henry stiffened, his eyes becoming scared, and the psychiatrist immediately knew he had said something wrong. "I can't," Henry whimpered, panicked, "Regina, she still has control of my real mom. She's cast a spell over my mother, and I have to find a way to break it." His eyes glared in concentration, "I've checked my book again and again for any answer to breaking the spell over Emma. If mom is going to save Storybrooke from Regina, I have save her first."

The fiery haired man flinched. Maybe it was already too late. The adolescent was already descending into even more increased madness. This world; the real world was no more than a dream to young Henry.

Once again, Archie felt that he needed to leave, but he feared the next time he would have to speak to Emma and Regina. How were they going to stomach what he told them? _How _could he tell them? How exactly was he going to go up to them, look the both of them in their depressed eyes and explain that their son was lost-was basically gone now, and there didn't seem to be anything else he could do?

How was he supposed to say that?

"If that is all," Archie said hesitantly, "I will need to tend to my work soon. Please get a good night's rest for tomorrow. Nurse Michaels will be bringing your food to your room in a few minutes." With that, he turned, not wanting to look at the damaged boy again for that day, and walked out, slamming the door almost too hard.

**Mayor Mills' House:**

Regina was picking the apples from the tree branches, inspecting the now severed stems from where she removed the fruit, checking to see if there would be any future damage that would endanger the plant's growth. Seeing none, she turned with her brown wicker basket filled with bright, shiny red apples to the brim, dropped the newest fruit into the basket with its companions and walked off to the house to join her lover Emma.

It had been two years since Henry was first committed to the hospital. She and the blonde sheriff had regularly visited him, pleading with him to get better, telling him that they loved him more than anything. The boy would just give them that same unreadable, emotionless stare, and when he was only focusing on Emma, his eyes would turn vindictive, as if Emma had betrayed him somehow.

It was a grim fact that the boy was paranoid. Some thought he had "borderline personality," others thought that the boy had what was called, "persecution complex." Either way, he was suffering right now and needed all the support he could get from both of his mothers.

Regina felt a stab of pain as she found the black, treacherous tendrils of guilt enter her mind. This was her fault-a part of it was anyway. She had been too strict. She was too strict towards her son and so he demonized her. She had just wanted Henry to succeed in life, and the boy misinterpreted that as an evil conspiracy she had to make him miserable.

Regina lowered her eyes to the ground as she got to the door. She wasn't a witch or some evil queen like Henry accused her of. She never had been. Her mother and father had both been loving and kind to her. But when she was seven, both her parents were taken from her in a car crash. Her adoptive parents were abusive, and they never let Regina hear the end of how she had to work harder or they wouldn't care about her.

She understood Emma and Henry's pain. They suffered the same. Emma by whoever her parents were, and Henry by Emma herself in the blonde woman's fear and frustration.

Regina had thought at first that it would be befitting to blame Emma; given she had handed Henry off to the orphanage as if he was unwanted luggage, but she knew she should only look at herself for her own misfortunes. She had been too strict with Henry, had limited the people he could spend time with, making him lonely. It might not have been what made him sick, but it clearly was one of his triggers.

Regina walked into her magnificent looking house, once looking bright and regal, now appearing as a shadow of the former glory it some time ago held, almost as if it had absorbed the pain and woes of the residents in the house.

Regina brought the basket of apples into the kitchen and was about to place it onto the counter, when she heard the sound of typing in the living room. She froze, realizing Emma was there, on her laptop and put the basket down, walking over to the other room.

Sure enough, Emma was sitting on one of the softer, dark blue chairs of the living room, silver laptop on the thigh segment of her legs, and the blonde's eyes were furiously narrowed in concentration as she typed away.

"Emma?" Regina asked gently, startling her lover. Emma broke her gaze from the computer and looked at the dark haired mayor, surprised. "Regina." Emma said, eyes seeming to relax at the sight of the woman she loved.

"Dear," Regina stated, smiling at her beloved one, "What are you doing? I think most of the information on criminals in Storybrooke, you'll find while talking to people _in_ Storybrooke."

Emma chuckled. Okay, she was sort of falling down on the job, but she had good reason. True, Regina made an excellent point; the people of Storybrooke chatted and gossiped like any people of a small town would, but hunting criminals was not what Emma was doing at the moment.

"Sorry, madam Mayor," Emma said slyly, going back to how she used to call her lover in a form of jesting, "But I have another mission in mind," Her tone and countenance became grim as she said, "I'm trying to find Henry's biological father."

Emma watched Regina's face cautiously, knowing that this would be a risky subject to bring up and she tried not to wince at the astounded look covering the mayor's face in reaction. "What?!" Regina demanded, "Why would you do that, Emma? It's bad enough that Henry is like this right now, do you want his father to try and take him from us when he finds out where his son is?"

Emma glared, "We've already lost him!" She snapped, regretting her words immediately when she saw the hurt look in Regina's eyes, "Regina, Henry is sick, and I'm pretty sure he's always been a little sick, it's just that this fairytale thing is new. As far as I know, I'm stable. So Henry might have inherited it from his father."

Regina's accusatory gaze softened. "Look," Emma started again helplessly, "I don't know what's wrong with Henry, but if his biological father has the same thing, he might know where to find help before it's too late."

Regina said nothing, and just sighed, nodding. "Fine, Emma," She ground out, "But Emma, we might already be too late." Emma stared as Regina turned away, voice angry, "He might already be lost in his own fantasies permanently. His biological father coming into the picture might take Henry away from us for good. I just hope you know what you're doing, darling, I really do."

Emma didn't miss that Regina's voice had taken on a dangerous edge when she said that. Regina might have opened up to her, was willing to share her home, her son, her heart and her bed with the sheriff, but the hard shell that once existed around her heart could still be erected at any moment, to guard herself from further harm from the outside world…or…..the internal world-existing in her own home.

Emma watched the love of her life walk back into the kitchen and inhaled, exasperated. She loved Regina beyond words. What was amazing to her wasn't that Regina still kept her heart safe every now and then; no, that was human nature, what amazed her was that her and Regina's son could actually think that his own mother; the mayor of the town, the kindest, strongest and most amazing woman on the face of this earth could actually see the woman as the freaking "evil queen" from Snow White. It was ridiculous.

Anyone who would take the time to actually get to know Regina would see it as ridiculous. Regina was a wonderful woman. It had taken time at first of course-all relationships do. It wasn't like Henry's insane fairytales. She didn't just meet Regina and immediately fall in love with her. She and Regina had genuinely disliked each other at first, but over time, and they got to know each other and spend more time together and in the end it seemed bound to happen.

And it appeared that in their relationship, Henry, believing his delusions more than real life, assumed that she had had a spell cast over her by Regina.

Emma closed her eyes, clenching her fingers around her laptop. She wondered sometimes though, if Henry was the price she had to pay for a relationship with Regina, was it really worth it?

**Note:**

It's been a while since I've posted a story, so I hope you guys like it. If it's a bit repetitive, that's still something I need to work on.

So yes, for those of you that are now pissed that it's a delusion, Henry is indeed insane in this fic. Sorry, guys. But think about it, it could have happened. Henry's theories were truly crazy, it just happened that he was right. So those that want to kill me for writing that, think on that a moment. Just thought that it would be an interesting twist.


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